Talk Talk
by L J Groundwater
Summary: Everyone goes to Hogan for advice, even Klink. So who does Hogan go to? Answer to a one-week writing challenge in the forums. Hope you enjoy this... please read and review. Thanks.


The challenge was: Everyone goes to Hogan for advice, even Klink. So who does Hogan go to?

The Kommandant of Stalag 13, Wilhelm Klink, stole what could be considered a suspicious look around the main room of Barracks Two. "Thank you, Colonel Hogan," he threw back toward the senior prisoner of war, and then he swept out of the hut.

Robert Hogan leaned against the doorframe of his office, thinking.

"What's ol' Klink's problem now, sir?" asked Peter Newkirk.

"Girl trouble," Hogan answered. He grinned, and seemed to relax.

It was then that Andrew Carter piped up. "Oh—Colonel—could I talk to you for a minute?"

Hogan raised his eyebrows and looked toward the Sergeant. "What's the matter, Carter? You have girl trouble, too?"

Carter's face broke out into a boyish grin. "Oh, no, sir. I don't see a lot of girls here in a POW camp. I mean, I have seen a couple of girls, but that's mainly when I've been out on a mission, and there hasn't been any—" His voice trailed off as he realized Hogan was smiling gently at him. "Oh. You meant that as a—um, no, sir. No girl trouble. Just need to talk to you."

Hogan pulled away from the doorframe. "Come in to my office, Carter," he offered. He looked toward the others. "And while we're in there, _you_ three can start thinking about _Frau_ Linkmeyer, and what kind of excuse we can use to get her in to camp."

"Klink _wants_ her here?" Corporal Newkirk asked incredulously.

"No," Hogan grinned. "And that's just why I want her to come."

- HH - HH -

Carter smiled as he came out of the Colonel's office and headed to his bunk. "Everything all right, then, Carter?" asked Newkirk.

"Sure, buddy," Carter answered. "No problem."

"You talk to the Colonel a lot," the Englishman observed suddenly, turning from the common room table and his cards. "You got a secret plot going on we don't know about?"

Carter grinned. "Sure. We're going to escape but we didn't want anyone else to know. You're in charge when we go, Newkirk."

Newkirk made a face. "A right comedian you are, mate. I wouldn't take his job for a million pounds."

"Me, neither. He's sure got a lot on his mind at the moment." Carter shrugged. "Well, I've got some stuff to do." He headed for the door. "I'll see you later."

"Where are you going?" Newkirk asked.

"The Colonel wants me to check out the new guard at the motor pool." Carter suddenly flashed a mischievous smile. "If he and I are escaping, we're going to need a car."

"Get out of here," Newkirk ordered with a smile.

He watched the American leave, then looked thoughtfully at his commanding officer's door. Putting aside his cards, he got up and headed to Hogan's office, knocking softly.

"Come," he heard from the other side.

Hogan looked up expectantly from his desk when Newkirk entered. "Newkirk. Anything on _Frau_ Linkmeyer?"

"Uh... not yet, sir," Newkirk replied. "Louis thought perhaps we could have a tea party—you know, the kind where all the ladies get invited and wear their fancy hats and all. He reckoned it might give us a chance to pick up some fancy buttons and things for when we need to dress up for a mission."

Hogan arched an eyebrow. "_Frau_ Linkmeyer isn't the fancy type," he said. Then he shook his head. "Never mind. It was just a fantasy."

Newkirk smiled. "They're always worth having, sir. Though involving General Burkhalter's sister in a fantasy... well, it's more my idea of a nightmare, if you take my meaning."

Hogan nodded and offered a gentle smile. "So... something I can do for you, Corporal?" he asked.

"Well, sir, it's just that..." Newkirk hesitated.

"Yes?" The slowness of the response concerned Hogan. "Newkirk? Are you all right?"

"Me? Oh, _yes_, sir!" the Englishman answered quickly. "I was thinking about _you_, sir."

"Thinking about me?"

"That's right, Colonel. Well, Carter just mentioned you have a lot on your mind, and I thought that... well... being as I don't talk very much, if you want to, you can talk to me and nothing will get past this door, sir. You know... loose lips sink ships and all that."

"That they do," Hogan agreed. "I appreciate your concern, Newkirk, but there's nothing bothering me that wouldn't be resolved by getting out of here. That's just the way war goes—we're stuck here. Volunteers in this operation or not, we'd still be in the war instead of home on our front porch drinking lemonade and watching the neighborhood kids play stickball in the street."

"Yes, sir," said Newkirk. Then, still trying, he continued, "But if you have something specific, Colonel, I'd be glad to—"

Hogan held up a hand. "Thanks, Newkirk. I'm fine." Newkirk nodded and turned to leave. "What's got you so Mary Worth today, anyway?"

Newkirk paused. "I don't know, gov'nor. I know you keep a lot of stuff to yourself, and that's not fair, because we lay a lot on you, but you don't really get to talk to anyone about anything. And seeing as you and I are both the types to not say much, I thought... well, if you _were _going to say something, you might say it to _me_, because I'm a bit like _you_. Not in the commander sort of way, but in the private sort of way, if you take my meaning."

As Newkirk spoke, a slow, easy grin spread across Hogan's face. "I think you're spending too much time with Carter," he teased. Newkirk relaxed. "Thanks for the look-in. But I'm fine."

"You're welcome, Colonel," Newkirk answered more formally, comfortable to be out of the quagmire that went with discussing anything that wasn't concrete. "I'll get back to work on Gertrude Linkmeyer."

Hogan nodded. "You do that."

- HH - HH -

James Kinchloe slid up next to Hogan as the Colonel quietly watched an impromptu game of football being played in the middle of the compound. "London says everything's ready to go for tomorrow night," he said quietly. "They'll have a plane fly over the drop zone at twenty-three hundred hours."

Hogan nodded. "Good," he murmured. "Burkhalter will be gone by then. Even the General's finely honed sense of how to overstay your welcome and drink all the good wine will have him out of here by twenty-two hundred."

"What makes you say that?" Kinch asked.

"No women," Hogan answered.

Kinch grinned. "That does tend to dampen the spirits a bit," he agreed.

"It sure does." Hogan shook his head. "Quite a week, though. The ladies coming through, this mission to look after, organizing the Underground... why does our real life seem a million miles away?"

Kinch snorted agreement. "Because it is," he answered. "You know what I'm looking forward to when I get home to _my_ real life?"

"What?"

"Just mingling with people. Like—all _different_ people. Men, women, kids, old people. People who work on cars, traveling salesmen, retired people, folks who work in factories..." Kinch sighed. "Right now it's pretty much all the same."

"With the occasional Gestapo visit thrown in for good measure."

"Now that's something I _won't_ miss."

"Me neither."

"Still, I suppose this place has its charms." Hogan threw Kinch a sideways glance. "Where else can you get a whole bunch of guys who have nothing in common getting along as generally well as we do?" Hogan nodded slowly. "It shouldn't happen. That's what they used to tell me in Detroit. And yet somehow... aside from a couple of minor issues... I fit in here just fine."

"You sure do, Kinch."

"A large part of that's because of you, Colonel. And I don't think I ever actually said thank you. So... thank you."

Hogan nodded thoughtfully, but said nothing.

So what are you looking forward to when you get home?" Kinch asked.

"Everything."

- HH - HH -

"You will have to make do with what we have, Cockroach. There is nothing else to be had!"

"Schultzie, how do you expect me to make perfect _hors d'oeuvres_ if you do not get me the caviar that will make them sing?"

Hogan listened with amusement to the argument escalating between his little Frenchman, Corporal Le Beau, and the Sergeant of the Guard, Hans Schultz. "They do not need to sing, Le Beau. I promise I do not want any performance from them. I just want them to slide down my throat. My stomach will sing for them when they arrive."

Le Beau scowled. "They are not meant for you," he retorted. "They are for the ladies' party. _You_ are not a lady."

"You can say that again," tossed in Newkirk from his bunk.

Schultz sniffed. "I take that as a compliment."

Hogan came further into the common room and sidled up to the guard. "Schultz, you want things to go well for Klink, right?"

"Of _course_ I do!" Schultz defended himself vehemently. "I _always_ support the Kommandant!"

"Yeah. Right," Hogan dismissed. There was no bug in the barracks; Schultz was just being obtuse. "Well, Schultzie, how do you think it would go over if Burkhalter's sister thought that there was plenty of caviar to be had—but that Klink was just holding back the good stuff for himself?"

"But there isn't—"

"And what if she told Burkhalter that?"

"But there isn't any—"

"Don't you think that would look bad for Klink?"

"But Colonel Hogan, there _isn't_ any caviar. I tried to get it like the Cockroach wanted. But there is none, not even on the Black Market!"

"Today. But perhaps tomorrow."

"But if there is none to be had, _Frau_ Linkmeyer cannot think we are holding it back from her," Schultz argued pleadingly.

"Ah, but she can," Hogan said.

"How?"

"Because we told her so." Hogan could feel the smiles on the faces of the prisoners around him as he watched Schultz's face drop. "So be a good guard, and try again tomorrow, okay?"

"_Ja,_ Colonel Hogan. I will try."

As Schultz closed the door behind him, Le Beau came to Hogan's side. "He is right, Colonel. There is no caviar. I bought it all yesterday for the special Underground meeting at the end of the week. I thought they deserved something a little special."

Hogan grinned. "Well, then, Schultz was right; you'll just have to do with what you have. Why did you insist on having it if you knew there wasn't any to be found?"

Le Beau shrugged. "For the same reason you told him you'd already told Burkhalter's sister that she would have some: it was fun."

The grin grew wider. "Le Beau, you're catching on."

"I learn from the best, sir."

- HH - HH -

Klink sank into the chair in his quarters and looked around him. "Hogan," he said to the man standing quietly beside him, dressed to the nines in his US Army Air Corps dress browns in the middle of Germany but somehow not seeming remotely out of place, "I never want to go through that again."

Hogan raised his eyebrows in pretend surprise. "I thought it went very well, sir!" he protested.

"Well? You think that went _well_?"

"Well, no one lost their hair or anything." An icy look from Klink made Hogan shrug. "Sorry."

Klink ignored the apology. "I have been promised the cleaning bills for three dresses, the repair bills for four hats, and a short, fast trip to the Russian Front if that _car_ isn't put back together by tomorrow night."

Hogan shrugged. "All parties have their little glitches, sir."

"Glitches?"

"Okay, snags."

"_Snags?_" Klink shook his head. "It was more like a disaster, Hogan. I don't understand how it all got out of hand so quickly. Everything was arranged so beautifully—and you must tell Corporal Le Beau that I appreciate the special touches on the _hors d'oeuvres_. The caviar was beautiful."

Hogan furrowed his brow. Le Beau would not have given the caviar to the Krauts if it was planned for the Underground. He'd have to find out what he actually _did_ feed the Kommandant, and then possibly get Kinch to organize an antidote.

"But Hogan, I tell you, these women, they fight like cats!"

"What started it, sir?" Hogan asked.

"I don't know, Hogan. I honestly don't know. One minute I was complimenting _Frau_ Grossmeyer on her dress—it was truly abominable but I thought I needed to do the right thing—and the next minute _Frau_ Bier was telling me that my taste was all in my mouth and how could I insult her—Hogan, I'd never even _spoken_ to _Frau_ Bier!"

Hogan nodded, appearing deep in thought. That would have been a Newkirk touch, he determined. Tell _Frau_ Bier that he heard the Kommandant tell _Frau_ Grossmeyer that he thought Bier's dress was unseemly. Yes... just stir the pot up a bit... make a dull time a bit more interesting...

"And now," Klink continued, shaking his head, "I'm just exhausted. Go away now, Hogan. I need to recover. And figure out where I am going to get the money to fix all of this."

"At your command, Kommandant."

As Hogan headed for the door, Klink called after him. "You have no idea how lucky you are, Colonel Hogan. Life here is much more straightforward for you. We take care of you, we feed you, we house you... all you have to do is behave until the end of the war and you're free."

Hogan frowned. He knew Klink didn't know about the operation, but the sudden simplification of the reality of Hogan's life—if anything were to happen to the operation—disturbed him.

Klink didn't notice. "Me? I have this uncanny attractive power over women. They will never leave me alone. I'll have to deal with this kind of thing forever."

"It's a burden to be you, Colonel," Hogan said sincerely, and ironically, and headed out.

- HH - HH -

Hogan sat on his bunk and rubbed his eyes tiredly, nearly ready to climb up to the top and get some shut-eye. It had been a long and complicated week, nothing more than usual but somehow more than he wanted to deal with at the moment. He knew that a fair amount of the mayhem had been self-created, the party with _Frau_ Linkmeyer being one of the biggest self-serving events of the war. But, Hogan reasoned, there was a very good reason for that: the men. Le Beau's glee as he went about cooking and creating for the night (Hogan reminded himself then that he still had to find out what was in that "caviar" that Le Beau had served to Klink); Newkirk's delight in stirring up the women over their clothes; Carter's enjoyment in keeping Schultz on edge the whole evening; and Kinch's pleasure at getting hands-on with a vehicle again, even if it _was_ for disassembling instead of actual engine work. It was all a good break for them, a blatant way of getting back at their captors. And it had worked. They'd walked around grinning for days.

But Hogan himself had been feeling a bit overwhelmed and a bit under the weather, and he was still feeling that way now. The week's events had seen to that: there was London's late-night drop, which didn't go exactly as planned, although it turned out all right in the end. And there was the Underground meeting, which despite the fancy snacks had had its share of problems, and arguments. And there was Klink's comment about Hogan just having to sit tight and be a good little boy for the rest of the war. And finally, there was mail call, which always threw the camp into a frenzy, and which always reminded Hogan of where he wasn't... and where he was. It was all affecting him, and, as Newkirk had proven by his uncharacteristic and uncomfortable offer of a shoulder to lean on for his commanding officer, it was affecting his men.

"We can't have _that_," Hogan told himself aloud. _We don't have the time, and I don't have the luxury._

He continued to think back over the last few days, searching for his answer, and his peace of mind.

_Seeing as you and I are both the types to not say much, I thought... well, if you were going to say something, you might say it to _me_, because I'm a bit like _you_._ Newkirk.

_I learn from the best, sir._ Le Beau.

_You really know how to help a guy, sir. Thanks._ Carter.

_Part of that's because of you, Colonel. And I don't think I ever actually said thank you. So... thank you. _Kinch.

_No, Kinch,_ thought Hogan, _it's me who needs to thank you fellas. I couldn't handle any of this without you. _

Then he hopped up to his bunk, and fell asleep.


End file.
